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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27052387">Flu Season</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chemicallywrit/pseuds/Chemicallywrit'>Chemicallywrit</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stardew Valley (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anxiety, Character Development, Depression, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Loneliness, Pre-Farmer, Sick Character, Sickfic, Suicidal Thoughts, i promise this isn't as bleak as it sounds, or is it???, unlikely friends, would you believe i wrote this before covid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 20:14:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,513</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27052387</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chemicallywrit/pseuds/Chemicallywrit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The winter before the farmer comes is an especially bad flu season.</p>
<p>Sometimes you see yourself in the most unlikely reflections.</p>
<p>This was originally part of a larger fic that has since been scrapped. It's not meant to be shippy, but the future is ever uncertain and who knows where the road may bring us! Take care of yourselves.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harvey &amp; Shane</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>51</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Flu Season</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s not that Harvey liked flu season. He’d tell anyone who asked, flu season meant half of Pelican Town coming to his clinic miserable and feverish. The last couple of years he’d convinced most people to get flu shots just so he wouldn’t get bombarded when everyone gave it to everyone else within the span of a week. Unfortunately, the flu shot this year was not for the flu that swept through the valley.</p>
<p>But the extra money was nice. Feeling appreciated was nice. Working hard enough to avoid playing captive audience to his own thoughts...was nice.</p>
<p>It was all nice until the surliest person in town was dragged into the clinic.</p>
<p>“Nooo.”</p>
<p>Harvey heard the groan before he saw Shane stumble through the door, followed by Marnie, who seemed to have pushed him. “Quit being such a child.”</p>
<p>“I don’t need to be in the hosbitible,” he mumbled.</p>
<p>“Marnie, Shane,” Harvey acknowledged, trying not to be disappointed. He’d made it almost all day without a new case, and he was due to close in ten minutes.</p>
<p>“Hi, Harvey,” said Marnie brightly, dragging Shane by the arm to the counter. “This ridiculous baby has a fever.”</p>
<p>“Don’t,” said Shane vaguely.</p>
<p>“And he’s drunk,” she added.</p>
<p>Of all the people, it had to be Shane, too. There was no one in this entire town more unpleasant. “Well, I can help with one of those things,” Harvey said, adjusting his tie to steel himself. “Why don’t you come on back?”</p>
<p>Twenty minutes, four attempts with a thermometer, a reading of 104° and a grumbled explanation of some other symptoms later, Shane had been admitted.</p>
<p>“You can’t do this to me,” he protested, as Marnie shoved him into the little bed in the examination room. “I got rights.”</p>
<p>“Shut your mouth and go to sleep,” she scolded. Was she tucking him in? “I will be back in the morning.”</p>
<p>Harvey blanched. “You’re not staying?”</p>
<p>“I left Jas with Jodi, but she can’t stay the night,” Marnie said, as if this was an explanation. “Sorry, Harvey.”</p>
<p>And then she was gone.</p>
<p>Well.</p>
<p>Harvey sighed and took a seat in the chair next to the bed. “Would you like to explain why you’re drunk at three in the afternoon?”</p>
<p>“I get a few drinks after work,” Shane grumbled, turning the glare that he was directing toward the ceiling in Harvey’s direction.</p>
<p>Harvey raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you work full time?”</p>
<p>“Went home early,” Shane yawned. “Didn’t feel good.”</p>
<p>“So naturally you thought alcohol would help.”</p>
<p>Shane rolled over. “Usually does.”</p>
<p>Harvey hadn’t thought of a suitable response before Shane was snoring.</p>
<p>*</p>
<p>Shane’s day had begun by realizing he was going to miss out on a day of pay in a bed that wasn’t his with very scratchy sheets, and it had just gotten worse from there.</p>
<p>He felt like shit, just like yesterday, but today, in addition to coughing up his lungs and being simultaneously freezing and made of magma, he was starting to get a headache for entirely unrelated reasons.</p>
<p>“If you were any good at being a doctor, you’d get me a drink,” Shane groaned, clutching his head, only <i>just</i> upright thanks to a careful configuration of pillows.</p>
<p>“That will only dehydrate you, and that’s the last thing you need,” Harvey said, infuriatingly mild. He was reading a newspaper in the chair next to the bed.</p>
<p>“Yeah, fuck you too then.” Shane knew what happened after this. Nausea, tremors, heart pounding, sweating, the feeling that if he didn’t get a drink <i>right now</i> he’d fly apart—all that on top of the kind of flu bad enough to land him in the hospital. All he wanted was to go back to his room at Marnie’s and drink until he was unconscious while his fever broke. He would do it, too, if he had any confidence that his legs would hold him. “My head’s killing me.”</p>
<p>“I can get you a decongestant, if you like.”</p>
<p>“That’s not gonna help with this,” Shane muttered, covering his eyes in the vain hope that the darkness would bring some relief.</p>
<p>He heard the newspaper shuffle, as if Harvey was looking over the top of it. “What do you mean by that?”</p>
<p>“I mean it’s not a fucking sinus headache, poindexter,” said Shane, which was both unfair and definitely outed him as someone who’d never outgrown eighties movies, but his head was splitting and he didn’t care.</p>
<p>The newspaper rustled again, and Shane assumed Harvey was ignoring him, until he spoke and his voice was much closer. “What’s wrong? Maybe I can help.”</p>
<p>Shane peeked through his fingers. Harvey was real close, trying to look him in the eye. It felt scorching, that attention.</p>
<p>Shane ran his hands back over his head and sighed. “This happened last time I tried to quit drinking.”</p>
<p>Harvey had bent down to be at Shane’s level; now he straightened, looking thoughtful. “Withdrawal.”</p>
<p>That was it. Ironically, last time he’d thought he had the flu.</p>
<p>“Let’s get you something to drink,” Harvey said decisively.</p>
<p>“I could murder a beer,” Shane said, a little surprised.</p>
<p>“Something with electrolytes,” Harvey said, already on his way out of the room. “Do you prefer juice or tea?”</p>
<p>Shane groaned and covered his eyes.</p>
<p>*</p>
<p>Eventually the world went sideways.</p>
<p>Shane’s perspective on the passage of time was terrible when his body <i>wasn’t</i> trying to kill him along with the flu virus, but before too long he stopped being able to focus on anything outside the little bubble of heat inside the itchy blankets. He gave up scratching, gave up trying to make his head stop pounding, gave up on everything except occasionally turning over to find some part of the sheets that wasn’t soaked in his sweat.</p>
<p>“Time for a check-in,” said Harvey’s voice at one point, and loomed into his vision with a thermometer.</p>
<p>“Fuck off,” Shane mumbled, curling up tighter.</p>
<p>“Open your mouth, Shane.”</p>
<p>“Mm,” Shane refused, squeezing his eyes shut.</p>
<p>“It’s either this or rectal.”</p>
<p>Shane’s eyes popped open. “Fuck <i>off,</i> fuck all the way off.”</p>
<p>“Don’t test me,” Harvey said, pointing sternly with the thermometer.</p>
<p>So Shane gave in.</p>
<p>How come three minutes lasts so long, thought Shane, when you’ve got a thermometer in your mouth?</p>
<p>When Harvey took it back and looked at it, Shane’s head was swimming.</p>
<p>“Hmm,” Harvey said. “Your fever’s going up.”</p>
<p>Shane was having trouble focusing his eyes. “Could’ve told you that. Not like you care.”</p>
<p>“I do care,” Harvey said, going all blurry.</p>
<p>“If you really cared you’d just let me die,” Shane mumbled.</p>
<p>“Let’s not talk like that,” was the last thing Shane heard before he slid unconscious.</p>
<p>*</p>
<p>Harvey was dozing in his chair when he heard the surly pile of blankets on the bed croak, “Harvey?”</p>
<p>Harvey shook himself awake. “Yes?” Yoba, what was it now?</p>
<p>“Can I have some water?” said Shane feebly.</p>
<p>Well now Harvey felt bad for being annoyed. He stood up. “Of course.”</p>
<p>Marnie had stopped by to sit with Shane once when he was asleep and again when he’d started dipping in and out of delirium, and Harvey had tended to the occasional other patient, but for the most part he hadn’t left Shane’s bedside in the last two days. Thankless work, this, but Harvey was fairly sure he was managing it with professionalism. As terrible a patient as Shane was, at least it wasn’t someone with a high chance of dying from the flu, like George or Evelyn, or Yoba forbid, Jas or Vincent. Shane was not having a good time, but he’d live.</p>
<p>Harvey winced as he filled a new paper cup with water from his kitchen sink. Of course, it’d be terrible if George or Evelyn died, too. And for that matter, it was terrible Shane was suffering. Harvey just sort of wished he was suffering somewhere else.</p>
<p>By the time he got back, Shane was actually sitting upright. Harvey had a moment of hope that his fever was broken before he saw that Shane was still trembling, eyes glassy, listing a little to one side like a road sign that had been bumped by one too many careless drivers.</p>
<p>“Here you go,” said Harvey, not too loud so as not to startle him. “Don’t drink it too fast.”</p>
<p>Shane took the cup in both hands like a child, which was a good idea given how much he was shaking. He did not say thanks.</p>
<p>Harvey suppressed a sigh and settled back into his chair. “How are you feeling?”</p>
<p>Shane turned his vacant stare on Harvey. “Like a lightbulb in the oven.”</p>
<p>It was an unconventional metaphor, but it did the job. “I see.”</p>
<p>Shane took another drink, and then let the half-full glass rest on his blankets so he could look at his fluttering hand. “I think I’m gonna die.”</p>
<p>“That’s not very likely,” said Harvey, trying to keep the eye roll he wanted to execute out of his tone. “Even if your fever doesn’t break soon, there are things we can do.”</p>
<p>“Pfeh. Just my luck.”</p>
<p>Hmm. Harvey frowned. “Shane, do you want to die?”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” he said mildly. “It’d be nice to stop existing.”</p>
<p>The way Shane said it—the sudden absence of his protective shell of angry sarcasm—struck a chord with Harvey. This was...this was not the time for a discussion of suicidal ideation, but Harvey couldn’t just let this lie. “Surely you have things to live for.”</p>
<p>“Nah,” scoffed Shane.</p>
<p>“But—”</p>
<p>“And don’t call me Shirley,” Shane said, as if this was any kind of time to be quoting eighties movies. “I got nothing. I am nothing.”</p>
<p>“That isn’t true,” Harvey protested. Dammit, he wasn’t qualified for this.</p>
<p>“You don’t have to be all nice about it,” Shane said. Almost reassuring him. “Pathetic waste of space. It’s how it is.”</p>
<p>“It doesn’t have to be like that,” Harvey attempted. He was going to make all this worse, he was sure.</p>
<p>“Nah, it does, I’m doomed,” Shane explained.</p>
<p>Distressed, Harvey shifted his chair to face Shane. “What do you mean, you’re doomed?”</p>
<p>“It’s like...it’s like <i>Homeward Bound.</i> You know <i>Homeward Bound</i>?”</p>
<p>“I—er—”</p>
<p>“I was trying to sneak into <i>Rising Sun</i> and I got sucked in,” Shane rambled, staring straight ahead as if transfixed. “I loved it. It made me cry so hard. Still does. You know the part with Shadow at the end in the rail yard?”</p>
<p>Harvey had a vague memory of some kind of talking dog movie. “Shane, I’m not sure—”</p>
<p>“And he’s just digging and digging through the mud trying to pull himself out, but he can’t, because he’s too old and tired?” Shane went on, showing no sign of having heard Harvey. His list to one side was becoming a lean. “That’s me. I’m Shadow, and I’m doomed to be trapped in a pit of mud, and there’s no way out. Doesn’t matter how hard I try.</p>
<p>“That’s...that’s not…”</p>
<p>“I don’t know how to stop fucking up my life,” Shane intoned.</p>
<p>The doctor part of Harvey’s brain, which was admittedly most of it, was already putting together a diagnosis of Major Depressive Disorder and a referral, but there was something else going on in the endless frenetic ticking of his mind. In a second or two the thought appeared, quietly, as if entering from a side door.</p>
<p>He’d never really thought of Shane as a person before. Especially not a person who felt like...like him. Trapped in his own life, running out of time.</p>
<p>“Shane,” Harvey said carefully, meaning it because it had to be true, for both their sakes, “you’re not a waste of space.”</p>
<p>“You should watch that movie though,” Shane said, leaning even farther, and Harvey had to jump to his feet to catch him before he fell off the bed.</p>
<p>“Okay, why don’t you lay back down?” Harvey took the half-full cup of water out of Shane’s lap and put it on the table, supporting Shane’s feverishly hot weight on one shoulder—he was heavier than he looked, and he didn’t look light. “Come on, Shane, help me out here.”</p>
<p>“Mmm,” was the only reply. Out again, it seemed.</p>
<p>Carefully, praying he didn’t throw out his back, he lowered his patient back onto the bed. Whew. That was close.</p>
<p>Harvey pulled the blanket back over Shane, but didn’t return to his chair for a few more minutes, standing in thoughtful silence.</p>
<p>*</p>
<p>Shane’s fever broke that night. In the morning he got up and left, ignoring Harvey’s recommendation that he stay for the rest of the day, saying little. He didn’t seem to remember anything that he’d said while delirious.</p>
<p>Later that day Marnie came to pay his bill.</p>
<p>“Is Shane...is Shane all right?” Harvey asked her.</p>
<p>“Feeling much better,” Marnie said, nodding. “A little weak, but back to his old self, I’d say.”</p>
<p>“I’m actually talking about his mental state.” Harvey felt like he was talking to a parent about their teenager. “Not just these last few days, in general.”</p>
<p>Marnie shrugged, a very put-upon shrug. “Damned if I know. I’ve tried to talk to him. He just won’t.”</p>
<p>The fever-ridden conversation would not leave him alone, though. Harvey resolved that it was his responsibility as a medical professional to offer help, but that wasn’t the only reason he wanted to talk to Shane, try as he might to convince himself otherwise. He just couldn’t resist the pull of one more honest conversation, not if there was the slightest chance in the world that someone out there understood how he felt.</p>
<p>He got his chance the next week, coming out of Pierre’s just in time to pass by Shane, who was likely on his way to Joja for the day.</p>
<p>“Shane!”</p>
<p>Shane looked almost startled, and angry about it. “What?” he demanded.</p>
<p>“Er…” Every single thing Harvey wanted to say flew out of his head. He shifted the grocery bag in his arms to buy some time. “I don’t know if you remember...some of the things you said when you were feverish…”</p>
<p>Shane’s usual glower cracked with the slightest hint of worry. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”</p>
<p>“It was about...how you feel about yourself, and dying, and <i>Homeward Bound</i>?” Harvey stuttered.</p>
<p>Shane frowned at the ground for a moment, before the light of horrific realization dawned.</p>
<p>“I just want you to know that there are options, things you can do, if you want—”</p>
<p>“Fuck off,” Shane snapped. He was already walking away.</p>
<p>“Shane, you can’t leave these sorts of things untreated,” Harvey said, taking a few steps after him. No, dammit, no, this wasn’t what he wanted to say, he wanted to talk, actually talk—</p>
<p>Shane swiveled to face Harvey. “You don’t know anything, okay? Nothing.”</p>
<p>And Shane turned on his heel and left.</p>
<p>Harvey watched him go, wishing he was better at expressing himself, wishing he’d practiced what he was going to say, wishing…</p>
<p>You can’t help someone who doesn’t want help, he reminded himself, but nevertheless, he had a sneaking suspicion that Shane was right.</p>
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